Adventures Of An Amnesiac Avatar
by GRsAndromedaFan
Summary: Trance's adventures on Seefra, early season 5, as told by Doyle for some reason. Trance/everybody (especially Dylan) friendship, tiny hints of Doyle/Dylan sexual tension.


Chapter 1, part 1

SEEFRA  
17:02

"Trance? Trance, what's the matter? Trance, look at me."

Trance isn't responding to Beka's pleas and continues to clutch her stomach, hunched over in one of the chairs at Harper's bar, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"Is it your belly? Talk to me, Trance."

Beka tries to pry the girl's hands away from her upper abdomen but Trance whimpers and clutches harder.

"Can I take a look?"

A rustle of golden-red hair indicates that no, Beka cannot take a look.

"I think that's a 'no', Beka."

"Yeah, thanks, genius." She snaps at Harper. "She'll let Dylan look. Can somebody go find him, please? Now?"

"I'm on it." I hurry off, trying to remember where I saw the man last, worried that if I take too long Beka will turn me into scrap metal. Bless the Divine, it's no more than five minutes - four minutes and fifty four seconds, to be exact - before I find him. He's coming out of the men's room in the narrow hallway behind the bar. Is he grimacing?

"Oh, hey, Doyle."

"Are…you alright?"

"Oh. Yeah, let's just say I need to drink more water."

I nod slowly, not entirely sure what he's referring to...

"Sorry, Doyle, is there something I can do for you?" He's wiping his hands on his shirt.

"We need you back in the bar. It's - "

"I didn't hear a fight." I see a twinkle of amusement in his eye.

"Nono, no fight. It's Trance."

He stops his wiping immediately and looks me dead in the eye; the twinkle is gone, replaced with stone cold worry.

"What's the matter? What happened?"

"We're not quite sure…she's not feeling well."

Without hesitation, he pushes past me and I silently curse Harper for giving me an emotion chip. Dylan's concerned about her, I tell myself. He's known her for years. She's always meant a great deal to him, and now, with her memory loss, he's protective of her. This is actually the first time he's left her alone with the rest of the crew for more than five minutes. Okay, so maybe "protective" was an understatement; extremely overprotective is more accurate. Meanwhile he's known me for what, a week, at most? Compared to Trance, I'm chopped liver.

Doesn't mean I can't find him cute, though…

Whatever, I still have Harper. I turn on my heel and follow Dylan back down the dimly-lit hallway that will forever smell like mildew and that one homeless guy's pee.

I join a worried Harper behind the bar; I'm concerned, too, but Trance would probably appreciate some space right now.

"Trance, what's the matter? Your stomach hurts?" Dylan's voice is soft as he crouches down in front of her.

She nods, eyes still shut tight.

"It's bad, Dylan. She not talking." Beka's hovering behind Trance, her hands on the girl's shoulders.

"Where's it hurt? Here?" Trance lets him pry her hand away from her upper abdomen and replace it with his own. He uses the tips of his fingers to palpate, gently, right below her sternum, and she sucks in a sharp breath. "Sorry, Trance. What sort of pain is it? Can you describe it?"

"Like I'm being stabbed…with a…with a red-hot pitchfork." Her eyes are filled with tears; she squeezes them shut again and they roll down her cheeks. Poor thing. I've seen her cry twice before - the first time she was struggling to remember the name of their dear old Magog friend and got frustrated, and the second time Rhade got drunk and decided to play a joke on her, telling her that Dylan was dead (this nearly earned him a black eye from Beka) - but I've never seen the tears flow quite like this.

"Oh Trance, it's okay." Beka coos, rubbing her back. She looks at Dylan. "What could be causing it?"

"I don't know. Trance, have you eaten anything today?"

She shakes her head.

"Anything to drink?"

A nod.

"Uh oh."

"Uh oh? What exactly does 'uh oh' mean, Beka?" He looks around. "And where the hell did Harper go?"

I look down. Harper's on his hands and knees on the floor, using the bar as a barrier between him and Dylan.

"Um…now don't get mad but uh, Trance may have had a shot of whiskey…" Beka says sheepishly.

"When?"

"Umm…twenty minutes ago?"

"Yeah, that sounds about right." I chime in, not wanting Dylan to think Beka is solely responsible. "We did a toast - "

Dylan stands up and interrupts me. "Wait a minute, how many of you knew about this?"

"Well…we all did, but Trance has never had a problem with alcohol in the past. I mean, it's made her silly before but that was it."

I can't back that up, of course, since I've only been acquainted with the girl for a week, but I nod slowly anyway.

"She hasn't had alcohol for god knows how long. Her stomach isn't used to it. You know this, Beka. I'm guessing from Harper's disappearing act that he was the ringleader in this?" Dylan seems to be trying hard to control the volume of his voice, though I suspect it's more for Trance's benefit than for anybody else's.

Deciding it's time for him to face the music I yank Harper up from his spot on the floor and he sputters, "Ouch! Doyle!" He grins nervously at the captain before speaking. "Okay, look, Boss, we were just having a toast - we thought it would be funny to celebrate Rhade's two straight days of sobriety - "

"Yes, that's…hilarious, my friend." Rhade rolls his eyes and downs the rest of his vodka.

" - and we didn't want Trance to feel left out, so we offered her a shot. We didn't think it would hurt her. You know we'd never do anything to hurt her."

Dylan must notice the sad look in Harper's eyes because his own eyes soften a bit and he sighs.

"I know you didn't mean any harm, Harper. Look…can I just get a glass of milk?"

"I thought you were lactose intolerant!" Dylan gives him a look. "I mean, uh, sure thing, Boss." Harper practically scurries to the refrigerator and pours the beverage. "Here ya go. Yeesh, if looks could kill, right?" He elbows me.

"Thanks." Dylan takes the glass from his friend, inspects it, uses his sleeve to wipe a smudge from the edge, and then places it in front of Trance, who's now nearly doubled over in pain. He places a hand on her back. "Trance? Do you think you can drink this? Slowly, okay, then we're going home."

Trance looks at the milk, then back to Dylan. "I don't know if I can, Dylan. I might throw up." Her brow is furrowed from pain and her eyes full of anxiety.

"That's probably what you need to do. Drink what you can, and if you throw up just make sure you throw up on Harper." He runs a hand down her hair, tucking one of her long, wavy locks behind her ear.

"I'll try."

Dylan smiles at her. "Good girl."

He leaves her at the table and walks back to the bar.

"Um, Harper, before Trance and I leave I gotta ask…you wouldn't happen to have any cranberry juice stashed back there, would you?"

Chapter 1, part 2

ANDROMEDA  
21:33

I knock hesitantly at the door to what I'm fairly certain is Dylan's quarters and wait for a reply. The hallway is dark and quiet and…a little creepy, if I'm perfectly honest.

"Come in." He calls from inside. "Wait, sorry, hang on." Thirty seconds pass and then I hear a metallic groan and clunk as he cranks the door open. "Oh, hey, Doyle. Sorry, I routed all of the available power to the life support systems and the AI. All doors are manual for now. Um, please, come in."

"Thank you." I step into the room, dark except for two small lamps that bathe it in soft yellow light. I notice Trance curled up in a very comfy-looking recliner next to the bed. There's a paperback book open in her right hand but I think she's getting close to dropping it on the floor because her eyes are shut. She opens them, however, when I get closer to her, and she tightens her slack grip on the book.

"Hi, Doyle." She says sweetly.

"Hey there. You feeling better?"

"I am, thank you."

I can see why Dylan is so fond of her - she's a sweetheart.

"Doyle, can I get you a drink?"

"I'd love one, thank you."

Dylan opens a small refrigerator and starts pulling out glass bottles. "Okay, we have apple juice, ginger ale, kalimelon juice…" He stops and turns around, waiting for me to announce my choice, and I frown, slightly confused. I thought that "a drink" typically implied alcohol.

"Doyle, I'm kidding." He reaches to the back of the fridge and pulls out a bottle of white wine. "Here we go. Unfortunately my wine glasses didn't survive the trip to Seefra, so," he removes two hard plastic cups from a cabinet, "these'll have to do."

"You should've told me; I'd have swiped a couple from the bar." I wink at him.

"Next time, then." He looks over his shoulder. "Trance, you want more ginger ale?"

"Yes, please."

He walks over to her and picks up her empty cup, refilling it and returning it to her before pouring our own drinks.

"Thank you." She smiles at Dylan and I can see in her eyes that she's exhausted. I guess powering a ship and getting alcohol poisoning in the same week can really take it out of someone.

"You're welcome. Doyle, please sit." He places a hand at the small of my back and guides me over to the chair next to Trance's. It's comfy and squishy but not as spacious as hers. Her chair looks like the perfect size to curl up and fall asleep in…which is probably going to happen sooner rather than later, if her yawn is any indication.

Dylan hands me my wine and then returns to the fridge. He opens an overhead cabinet and removes something small and silver. I take a sip of my wine and eye him over the top of my cup, curious as to what he has. He places the object in his right hand, closes both fists, and walks back to Trance.

"Pick a hand. Right or left."

Trance thinks for a moment and then taps his right fist. "Atta girl." He says, uncurling his fingers. There's a little round silver-wrapped chocolate resting on his palm. Trance takes it and smiles at him. He smiles back.

"One thing she didn't forget - her love of chocolate." He gazes at her for a moment, his eyes soft, a mixture of affection and sadness, before seating himself at the foot of his bed.

Trance giggles at the comment and I take a moment to study her. She's wearing a white nightgown with just a bit of ruffle on the hem and on the sleeves. Her hair is down; beautiful golden-red waves cascade down her back (why can't I have hair that pretty?). Her feet are bare and tucked underneath her; the soles look like Harper's - pale with a hint of pink - but the tops match the rest of her skin, streaks of light gold and cream. She washes down the chocolate with several small sips of her ginger ale and then sets the glass down.

"So, what brings you to our lovely ship?" Dylan asks, breaking me out of my contemplation of this strange golden girl.

"The fact that she's the most beautiful ship I've ever seen. I'm serious, Dylan, your ship is magnificent. I know she's looking a bit worse for wear to you, but that's because you knew her at her absolute best."

Dylan smiles at me over the top of his glass, his eyes soft. "I appreciate that, Doyle. I really do. We may be stuck on Seefra now but I'm confident that the Andromeda will become a beautiful ship once again."

"To the Andromeda." I say, and the three of us raise our cups for a small toast.

"You took the Maru here, I presume?"

"Yeah, Beka let me borrow it. She's staying late at the bar with Harper."

"She must really trust you, then. She's very protective of that bucket of bolts."

"You're telling me. I'm surprised she didn't make me sign away my firstborn child. I mean, I can't have children, obviously, but…you get the idea."

He smiles and looks at me with those soft eyes again. I might melt. I can barely control my giggle at the thought of Harper having to scrape my liquified form off the floor with a shovel.

What the hell time is it? Dylan's been talking about dear old Flavin for about an hour. Good lord, it's nearly 02:00. I didn't intend to chat for this long. Harper's probably wondering where the hell I am. I look over at Trance. Still asleep, the hushed tones of our conversation not bothering her. She fell asleep hours ago, still curled up in the recliner; Dylan tucked a blanket around her as soon as he noticed she'd drifted off.

The man is a sweetheart. I wonder if he's looking for a girlfriend. I shake my head, trying to dispel the thought. Too soon, Doyle, you've only known the guy for a week. Make a move at this point in the game and he's gonna reject you.

"Doyle? You alright?" There's concern in his lovely eyes.

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, just a bit warm."

"Harper probably fitted you with internal temperature regulators but I can adjust the room temperature if he didn't - "

"No no, I'm okay. But, uh, it's getting late and if Harper hasn't sent out a search party yet I'll be a son of a bitch."

A broad grin cracks his face and he seems to be having a hard time not laughing out loud.

"I'm sorry, that's just something Harper says a lot. I thought it might be applicable."

"No apology necessary. That's the sort of stuff Trance used to say, back when she was, uh…" he hesitates and I feel like there's something he's leaving out, "…younger. She'd pick up words from people and use them without being sure what they meant. It was always amusing hearing her blurt out a curse word by accident."

"Sounds like something a child would do."

"Yeah, you could say she was like a child."

"It seems like she still is, in some ways…"

"I guess you could say that, too…" He looks down at the drink in his hand and swirls the contents around, his eyes suddenly full of sadness.

"I'm sorry…I didn't mean to upset you."

"No no, you didn't upset me. It's the truth, what you said. Everything she's been through really did a number on her, physically and mentally. She's extremely fragile right now. She can't take care of herself, and after today I don't think I can even trust Beka to look after her."

"I don't think you mean that. Beka told me that she and Trance used to be like sisters. Before I came up here I talked to her. She was upset about what happened today. She was crying, actually, but please don't tell her I told you that. Said she's afraid she may never get her sister back."

"She will. She just needs to be patient. Anyway, you mentioned Harper sending out a search party. You mean to tell me he hasn't implanted a homing beacon in you yet?"

"Oh no, he has. I just reconfigured it to constantly tell him that I'm thirty feet away from his current location, regardless of where I actually am. It's fun to mess with him."

"You know, I think that's something that we can all agree on."

"Anyway, I should really get going." I say quietly, pushing myself up from my chair. Dylan follows suit, but his rising is accompanied by popping joints and a low groan. "I enjoyed our talk. And thank you for the wine."

"Please, stop by anytime. Mi casa es su casa."

"'My home is your home'. Spanish. Old Earth romance language. I didn't know you were bilingual, captain."

"Eh, I get by."

"She just going to sleep there all night?" I motion with my head to indicate Trance.

"Yeah. I could move her but honestly I don't want to wake her up; she really needs the sleep."

"I think you could use some sleep, too, captain. Try what Harper does - don't set an alarm; let yourself wake up naturally."

"That's good advice. Thanks, Doyle."

"Sweet dreams, Dylan." I blow him a kiss.


End file.
